


inconceivable

by hydrochaeris



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Brunch at Jerry's, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, M/M, this is after jack and bitty come out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2016-10-23
Packaged: 2018-08-24 06:36:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8361238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hydrochaeris/pseuds/hydrochaeris
Summary: “You… you keep using those words, ‘double date,’ ” Holster said slowly. “I don’t think it means… what you think it means.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> me: was trying to not add to the plethora of getting together holsom fics already on ao3  
> also me, after seeing a tumblr prompt: THIS IS EXACTLY HOLSOM AND I MUST WRITE IT IMMEDIATELY  
> sorry if this is choppy, i wrote it in two parts at two entirely different times so the style switches up kind of?? and ransom talks about like, weird things that may or may not be related to his bio major (they're actually just random facts that i happen to know but please pretend like they support his characterization).

Friday, 8:47 pm.

_hey holtzzy you wanted an excuse to take justin to jerrys brunch right?_

**Yes, why?**

_god i always forget that you text like a real person_

_i hate it_

_anyway april and i are going tmrw morning, so we thought a double date would be nice ;))_

**Lol okay. Let me check with Rans.**

 

Holster reached up to the top bunk and grabbed the nearest part of Ransom, which turned out to be his ankle, and tugged.

“Hey Ransypoo.”

“Hey Holtzykins.”

“Wanna brunch at Jerry’s tomorrow morning? March and April want a double date.”

“March, like, lesbian March?” Ransom kicked Holster’s hand off his foot and peered over the edge of the bunk dubiously. “She’s gay, man.”

“Why would lesbian March go on a double date with us? And send a, quote, ‘semi-colon left-parenthesis left-parenthesis’ emoticon?”

“Hmm. You have a point. Also, you fucking owe me Jerry’s after chirping me so much about never going. Why did I never go? More like why did you never ask me, asshole.” He ruffled Holster’s hair with one dangling hand before freezing. “Wait, when is my bio exam? This Monday or next Monday?”

“The Monday after next, bro.” Holster caught Ransom’s hand and starting playing with his fingers so he wouldn’t start biting his nails. “You’re good. You need to take deep breaths?”

“Nah. Thanks for having my back, though.” Holster could hear the smile in Ransom’s voice. It made him smile too, and he absentmindedly curled his hand around Ransom’s before going back to reply to March.

“I’ve always got your back.”

There was a pause.

“Not about fucking brunch, though. Man, four years and it takes two girls to ask us on a double date before you consider bestowing me with the honor of being asked to brunch—”

“ _Bro_.”

 

_/\\_

 

The date was going well, March thought. Ransom and Holster were clearly in their element, telling stories and continually interrupting each other and gesturing animatedly. And April—who’d been a little wary about the date for some reason—seemed totally relaxed, which was her first priority anyway.

“Guys, this has been so much fun,” she said when she felt the meal and conversation dwindling down.  “We were a little worried about a double date, but you guys totally made up for that. You’re the best couple we could’ve had with us on this double date, so really, thank you.” March wasn’t really expecting praise so much as an acknowledgement of her comment, and when she got blank stares and silence she was thrown off completely.

“You… you keep using those words, ‘double date,’ ” Holster said slowly. “I don’t think it means… what you think it means.”

“I can tell he’s quoting a movie from his tone of voice,” Ransom said to her. “But I have no fucking clue what movie that’s from.”

“You haven’t seen The Princess Bride?” April’s mouth fell open. “Oh my god, Holster, Adam J. Birkholtz, how the fuck are you dating someone who hasn’t seen The Princess Bride?”

“ _Dating?_ ” Ransom and Holster said in unison. March facepalmed.

“April. April, honey. They think this is a double date… with us. Like, they think they are dating us.”

“What?” April said. She looked from Ransom to Holster, both of whom were avoiding the other’s eyes, and back again. “Sweet baby children, have you not realized March is a giant lesbian? I’m pan, but like, March is pretty gay. I’m dating March. March is dating me. Did I make that clear enough?”

“We thought you weren’t dating,” Holster said, voice smaller than it’d ever been, “because you guys do a lot of the same shit that Ransom and I do, except not as bro-y because no one and nothing is as bro-y as Rans and I are. Holy fucking shit I am rethinking my entire definition of ‘dating’ right now.”

“Well,” said March. “I’m just gonna pay for all this—”

“We are splitting the bill,” April interjected.

“—we are _not_ splitting the bill, it’s my turn to pay—and then I guess we should go. Guys?” Ransom and Holster looked at her with matching expressions of confusion and slight unhappiness. “I’m sorry for the misunderstanding. Clearly we made you guys uncomfortable, which we didn’t mean to do at all, and we’re both really sorry. Do you guys wanna go now?”

“Thanks for paying,” Ransom said tonelessly. “Next time I go out—not like, as a date, you know what I mean—with either of you it’s on me.”

“Same,” Holster echoed. God, these boys looked so tired. March felt awful that they were gonna have to figure it out from this, but hey, it’d had to happen at some point. At least that’s what the old goalie Johnson was always telling her. She put her arm around April’s shoulder and watched as Holster and Ransom left in separate directions, wordlessly.

“Is this why you were worried about the double date?”

“Babe, just tell me I’m always right.”

March snorted. “You’re the worst. Okay I’m kidding you’re not the worst, I love you so much I don’t know what do with myself some days, but god, if you think I’m splitting the bill you’re so fucking wrong.”

“I already gave the waitress my credit card when you weren’t looking.” April kissed March’s cheek sweetly, and she couldn’t even hate her for it. “Checkmate.”

“You’re always right. _Ugh_.”

 

_/\\_

 

Ransom knew that Holster knew that he was in the library. And he knew that at this point, if Holster wasn’t going to talk to him about this, he wasn’t going to talk to Holster about this. So he was just here, under this table. Not having an anxiety attack. Definitely not having an anxiety attack. Just breathing very fast and in little stuttering hiccups of air—in-out in-out in-out—

He wasn’t having an anxiety attack. He was just slightly fucking worried because—

Okay, above all, Ransom loved Holster. Always had since day fucking one, and always would. That was not a question. The question—okay, look, he’d do anything for Holster, the loudest most ridiculous gangly angry nerdy white boy he’d ever met who lost his glasses on at least a daily basis but who never forgot Ransom’s exam schedule, and he knew that Holster would die for him, so, okay, that’s—that was not the fucking question.

Oh my god. Ransom was _so right_ about March being gay, he so fucking called that, why did Holster never _listen—_

But that was unfair. Holster was a fucking amazing listener—Ransom could and had talked to him about basically everything in the world. Everything from beer to biology to kaprekar numbers to the unfathomable probability of them being alone in the universe, yeah, really, they disagreed about ghosts but never extraterrestrials, there was just no fucking way—fucking _everything_ , okay. They questioned everything together. And never questioned that they would ever be apart. The question—yeah, he’d been fucking avoiding it, it was always a hum in his veins more than a coherent thought in his head, crept under his skin when he was quiet and alone and had nothing else to think about, yeah, he was still avoiding it now—god, the question wasn’t if they would be together, but _how_. Their love had surpassed _bro_ fucking years ago. Ransom knew Holster didn’t have too many role models for a healthy relationship—his parents were stuck in this strange loveless dance that Holster told him they only kept up because they didn’t know what else to do—he would not let Holster be in a relationship like that. With him or not. But if it was with him—a healthy relationship, _boyfriends_ , god, what a fucking weird word, just one space away from what they already were—what would change? They’d probably have sex. They’d probably kiss—more than they already did, anyway. And on the mouth. That would be nice.

Ransom pressed the palms of his hands into his eyes and released a shaky exhale. He was not panicking. This was not an anxiety attack; his brain was a fucking mess but his heart was calm. His heart knew some shit, clearly. Had known it for a long time. Yeah, what the fuck was a space between two words? Between two people? It’s nothing. The body was a mass of electric nerves and pulsing blood and thrumming bone. And two of them—two of them, together, in all the ways together—it was natural as the involuntary breath that circulated its way through Ransom’s body every damn day. Okay then. He had his answer.

 

_/\\_

 

Holster really, really didn’t want to fuck this up. He’d seen his parents try and hold their shit together for seventeen painful years. They still were, now, he just wasn’t watching anymore. He was so scared—he was so scared of being in that position, where they agreed to not sleep in the same bed anymore but never talked about the reasons why, where they let short flares of anger rise between them only to smother it the next day and never acknowledging the broken wires between them that sparked uncontrollably, that would one day bring a fire that would burn their connection entirely. He didn’t want that shit for him and Ransom. But truly—with nothing more than a few hookups and no serious relationships in his past, what else did he have to go on? He’d tried modeling his relationships after the ones he’d seen on TV shows. He said all the right catchphrases and laughed at the right time and hoped to god there wasn’t a laugh track somewhere in a parallel universe laughing at him.

He knew Ransom was in the library. He was probably huddled up under a chair or a table, knees to his chest, but his arms were at his sides and Holster would bet good money that he wasn’t on his side. It wasn’t that extreme. Ransom wasn’t having an anxiety attack. He’d seen the look on Ransom’s face before they’d gone their separate ways from Jerry’s, and it wasn’t his anxiety face, it was his thoughtful face. Was Ransom 100% overthinking this anyway? Duh. But so was Holster. Actually, he was standing outside the back entrance to the library, and really hoping Ransom wasn’t melodramatically gazing out a window so he wouldn’t potentially catch sight of him. Hands shoved in his pockets, hair a fucking mess, glasses askew, chewing at his bottom lip and then thinking about Ransom chewing at his bottom lip. Jesus Christ.

Actually, Holster wasn’t overthinking this at all. He knew post-brunch that he loved Ransom in ways that surpassed platonic, in ways that surpassed a lot of those so-called healthy relationships he’d obsessed over on TV, too. So would he date the idiot currently curled under a table in the library with probably a million thoughts about everything running through his brain? Well, what Holster _really_ wanted was to marry him—which was a horrible fucking idea, honestly, not because he wouldn’t love being married to Ransom, but because he hadn’t even graduated from Samwell yet and didn’t have anything in his life figured out and also, you know, the whole _his-parents-should-probably-be-a-cautionary-tale-away-from-marriage_ for him, but—Dating would be cool. For now. It’d be really, really fucking cool.

He absolutely did not imagine how fucking beautiful Ransom would be in a suit—did not imagine them walking up the aisle hand-in-hand—did not imagine the showtunes that he would put on the playlist specifically to irritate the hell out of Ransom—did not—

God, why did this have to happen before graduation? Jack and Bitty had a romance for the history books (which Holster should totally tell Jack, the nerd would love it) and here was Holster outside the library and not _scared_ to go in, more like apprehensive, and it was going to rain, he could feel the rumble coming, curling under the clouds with a perfect tension that Ransom would know how to describe much better than him. He had had a fucking plan. He would’ve thrown his cap in the air and kissed Ransom on the mouth and told him “I love you” and not worried about anything.

The rain fell almost absentmindedly from the sky. Holster readjusted his glasses. He walked up to the back entrance and opened the door.

 

_/\\_

 

“Hey,” said Ransom when he felt Holster’s hand on the back of his shoulder. He’d moved to an armchair after making his decision, but he hadn’t gone to Holster. He knew that this was something Holster would want to come to him about. Holster was fucking weird like that.

God, he loved him.

“So this is like, whatever,” Holster said, which was his way of letting Ransom know that he was about to say something very important, “but I want to date you, and be your boyfriend, and yeah. All of that shit.” He fiddled with the strings on his hoodie. Nervous was a really cute look on him, honestly. Ransom belatedly realized that Holster was nervous because he was waiting for Ransom to answer.

Ransom stood and faced Holster and he had never felt less anxious in his entire life. “As you wish.”

Holster’s face split into that stupid goofy grin, all blinding teeth and _no lips_ , white boys, _really_ —he reached for Ransom and lowered his face to his shoulder. Two seconds later he pulled away glaring.

“ _You absolute fucking asshole_.”

Ransom was too busy choking back laughter to reply. He was so grateful that the first floor of the library was the one where everyone did group projects and talked too loud, and that he’d chosen a relatively secluded table to huddle under, because if anyone else got to see Holster like this, pissed off but so incredibly in love, he would’ve probably died from jealousy.

“I _knew_ you’d seen The Princess Bride, fucking _no one_ has not seen that cinematic fucking masterpiece, why did you let believe otherwise you _dick_ —”

Maybe it wasn’t the best time to lean in and kiss him. Ransom did anyway.

Holster faltered for a moment before kissing back, still tasting vaguely of brunch and wrapping his arms around Ransom. Ransom got one hand on the small of Holster’s back and the other at the base of his skull and—look, he got the whole skeleton stereotype, but bones were _living things_ when they weren’t, obviously, dead, and he could feel how alive Holster was from the bone shifting under his skin, and that was—probably weird, whatever, he loved it.

“Love you,” he said, and Holster pouted because he’d broken their kiss to do so. “Don’t fucking look at me like that, I’m in love with you and your singing voice vibrates my bones, and I just remembered that opera singers classically shatter glass because of their—”

Holster kissed him again. Ransom backed him against the table, and yeah, choosing a space bracketed by bookshelves had definitely been a smart choice.

 

_/\\_

 

Saturday, 10:22 am.

**Thanks for brunch**

_no prob man_

_not that it’s my business, but i hope yall figured shit out_

**We made out in the library. I can never go to the first floor again without getting a Pavlovian boner.**

**Also, we’re dating.**

_aww :) good for you two!_

March snuggled back further into April’s arms and smiled contently.

“You know, babe, I should talk to Holster more. I think he’d be a really good friend.”

“Now that he’s not trying to date us,” April mumbled half into the pillow, half into March’s hair. “Boys are always one thousand percent better when they’re not trying to date us.”

“Truth.”

“Now, what do you say we go get brunch at Jerry’s?”

“Or we could just stay here and cuddle? Don’t quote me on this, but I’ve had enough brunch for awhile.”

March’s phone lit up again. She pushed it under the pillow and turned more into her girlfriend’s embrace.

“Whatever you want, hon. Don’t quote me on this, but you’re always right.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> [main](http://yeahbees.tumblr.com) // [omgcp sideblog](http://wholsomholsom.tumblr.com)


End file.
